


The Storm Passed (They always do, eventually)

by Dareandwriteit



Series: Dadgnus and his detective son [4]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Dad Magnus, Found Family, Gen, Magnus is Angus' dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 11:36:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13658178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dareandwriteit/pseuds/Dareandwriteit
Summary: A storm rages overhead. That can be frightening to the right person.In the Patterns of the Migration universe.





	The Storm Passed (They always do, eventually)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [goodnicepeople](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodnicepeople/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Patterns of Migration](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10709301) by [goodnicepeople](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodnicepeople/pseuds/goodnicepeople). 



Many months after the storm that almost ate the world had passed, a thunderstorm hung over a ramshackle house. Rain beat against the roof of grey and red slate, snaking between the patchwork tiles that had been laid with an expert hand. It rang out as it hit the glass panes of the window: sharp like the snap of an icicle on a spring day. It was a gentle kind of noise, undercut by a distant rumble that creaked with beams of the house.

There was flash of light that made Angus wake with a start. His room warped under the harsh lightning, the collection of wooden figures on the window ledge taking on wicked faces. There was a wand in Angus’ hand before he able to fully sit up, snatching it from beneath his pillow with an instinctual speed. Its tip lit in a warm orange glow that chased away the vicious shadows, eventually revealing a lumbering figure in the doorway.

“You alright Ango?” Magnus said, palms up and a nervous smile on his face. Even now, a man settled into domesticity, Magnus cut a threatening silhouette. Angus hated that he had been afraid, embarrassed by this childish mistake. He stuffed his wand back beneath his pillow, smothering the light.

“Y-yes. You just frightened me, is all.” Angus admitted, drawing his knees up under his blanket.

“Sorry Ango, just wanted to make sure the storm wasn’t messin’ with you too much.” Magnus said, walking over to Angus’ bed. As genuine as Magnus’ concern was, something about it rubbed Angus the wrong way. An assumption that he was a burden, frightened by something as silly as a thunderstorm.

“It’s just some rain, Sir.” Angus muttered, into his knees. The bed shifted as Magnus sat beside him.

“Thunderstorms aren’t just rain, kiddo. It’s alright if you’re afraid.” Magnus said, patting at Angus’ knee.

“I’m not.” Angus grumbled, looking away from Magnus. He kept his eyes on the shelves that lined his room instead, taking stock of chronologically ordered Caleb Cleveland novels. Letting his gaze wander over the small collection of puzzles and toys, the only ones that he had ever owned, and realising he might seem ungrateful, he quickly added: “Thanks for your concern, though.”

There was another bright flash from the window. Angus felt the bed shudder as Magnus jumped, ever so slightly.

“You can come to my room. If you want, I mean.” Magnus stuttered out, with a strange lack of his usual brash confidence.

Angus finally looked closely at Magnus. He took note of the deep, heavy lines beneath his eyes. The tangled hair that betrayed an unsuccessful attempt at sleep. The clean bandages over Magnus’ fingers, too clean to be more than a few minutes old. Angus grimaced to himself. If even carving was beyond Magnus, it was a bad night. 

Angus placed his hand on Magnus’, his own delicate digits dwarfed by Magnus’ thick hands.

It wasn’t silly to be afraid of storms, Angus thought. Not when you spent a hundred years running from a storm that ate everything it touched. It was no different than his own fear at the smell of a certain brand of cigar. It didn’t matter if it couldn’t hurt you. If it scared you, it scared you.

“That would be nice, papa.”

Magnus seemed to light up at this. He picked Angus up out of bed, blankets and all.

“W-wait!” Angus giggled as he was rolled up like a burrito and carried over to Magnus’ room.

“Nope, I got my sweet little baby all wrapped up, and I don’t want to wake him.” Magnus joked, placing a slobbery, scratchy kiss on Angus’ cheek.

“Eeew!” Angus laughed, with neither one of them noticing as lightning flashed outside the window again.

They settled into Magnus’ bed, talking over the chatter of the storm late into the night.

The storm passed.

They always do, eventually.

**Author's Note:**

> I noticed there was lot of stories where Angus is frightened by thunderstorms and crawls into the bed of whatever parent he's with (usually Taako or Kravitz).
> 
> This is my own take on that scenario, as I have never really bought that the boy detective is afraid of thunderstorms. Magnus, on the other hand, has more than enough of a reason to be scared of them.
> 
> Comments deeply appreciated!


End file.
